Pretty Face (Vincent x Insecure Reader)
by CrimsonAdri
Summary: (Female pronouns, no name/ "Y/N") Warnings: Slight angst – happy/cute end, mentions of suicide, Reader has depression though not stated, LOW self-esteem Summary/Snippet: "Can you make me pretty?"


**Pairing: Vincent x Insecure!Reader (Female pronouns, no name/ "Y/N")  
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****Warnings: Slight angst – happy/cute end, mentions of suicide, Reader has depression though not stated, LOW self-esteem **  
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**Words: 1101  
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**A/N: **Basically this is what I "daydream" about as I'm trying to fall asleep, so this is basically a self-insert cause I was imaging myself in place of the reader.**  
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**Summary/Snippet: **"Can you make me pretty?" **  
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** ALSO: I know the whole rule of when a new person speaks it's a new paragraph but considering for the start of this Vince doesn't speak and I didn't want it to be a huge paragraph I decided to make it the way I did. until he does start speaking.  
Sorry if it throws anyone off but Reader is speaking all of the beginning basically.  
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**I have a bunch of other "Slasher" stuff like headcannons and such but I can't put them on here cause there's too many categories and I could only put it under two as a crossover. If you wanna read them look me up on AO3 or Wattpad.**

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"Can you make me pretty?"

He had to pause for a moment to make sure he'd heard her correctly.

"I know you can't do anything about the extra weight but… maybe a pretty face could make up for it."

He slowly turned to her with his head tilted in question. She was strapped down to a table, stained with blood and covered with various tools, but she wasn't struggling; she hadn't struggled once. Sure she didn't look comfortable but it was as if she didn't mind the fact that there was no escape in sight for her. Like she accepted it.

"Or maybe you can… I dunno. I know it's your art and all that. I didn't mean to offend you. You can do whatever. Just maybe… a standing position? Sitting doesn't look very… flattering, ya know?"

He blinked at her from behind his mask as she rambled on.

"Again, I don't mean to offend you or anything. I know that it doesn't matter what I think cause I'll be dead anyways but… it'd be nice to be pretty in death."

He continued to stare at her and she finally turned her head to look at him.

"Can you… understand me?" she asked.

While she didn't expect him to have a full out conversation with her before he killed her, she didn't think he would just stare at her either. He nodded once. She looked back up at the ceiling. He didn't move and continued to look at her.

"Is it gonna hurt?" she asked before turning her head once more to look at him.

He hesitated before shaking his head slowly.

"Oh good." She smiled at him before looking up. "I've tried, ya know? Always got too scared."

He took a step towards her, tilting his head again. She continued.

"Falling would take too long. I didn't want it to hurt and I don't have the willpower to keep my head underwater that long."

As it dawned on him, he took a step back. He stared as she continued on but her words slowly became background noise to his own thoughts. Taking a few steps towards the table caused her to stop and meet the eyes of his mask as he looked down at her.

"Make it quick, though, please?" she requested. He shook his head and her eyes widened slightly; he continued to shake his head as he suddenly undid the restraints on her hands and feet. She sat up slowly, confusion clear on her face. He walked over to the desk in the corner of the room and grabbed something before hurrying back over. She hadn't moved an inch, wasn't even looking for anything to use as a weapon. He held a small mirror in front of her face and her immediate reaction was a slight grimace as she looked down at her lap. She was fiddling with her fingers and wouldn't lift her gaze so long as he held the mirror there. He returned the mirror to his desk before picking up a sketch pad.

After a few moments of him sketching something out she noticed him looking up every so often at her before he would continue. She turned her head away, pretending to look around the room and his pencil paused.

"I…" She looked over at the sound of his voice breaking the silence. It was an almost whisper, as if he were testing his voice. "I need to see your face."

"Why?" He hesitated.

"I'm… I'm going to make you pretty."

"Oh…" She nodded with a small, sad smile. "Right." She couldn't help the tears welling in her eyes but tried to blink them back, wiping away a lone stray. The pencil continued to move across the paper, filling the room with soft scratching sounds. She picked at her nails absentmindedly until she realized the noises had stopped. He was looking down at the paper with a hidden smile. After another moment of admiring his work he walked over to her. Her face saddened slightly as she mentally prepared herself. He turned the sketch pad to her and she blinked in surprise. "But…" It was just her. Her face, just the way it was at that moment. "Do you want me to tell you what I want to look like?" she asked but he shook his head.

"Pretty face," he muttered as he pointed at the sketch. Her cheeks flushed and a smile tugged at her lips but was soon replaced with a frown.

"Why?" He tilted his head. "Why are you trying to make me feel better? There's no point. I'm going to be dead, right? Why should it matter to you?" He shook his head.

"Stay?" She looked at him, wondering if she'd heard him right. "Stay," he repeated.

"St-…stay?"

"You can't leave… but… you can stay."

"Why?"

"Because…" He looked towards the chair and the pipes aimed at it. "It would ruin it." He looked back at her to see her confusion. "I couldn't…it would…" he looked down as he tried to find the right words. "Your face… doesn't need to be changed." She watched him, her mouth open slightly. "It's already pretty… the wax would… ruin it," he finally managed before he looked up to meet her eyes. Tears were welling up in them as she chewed on her bottom lip. His hand flew to stop her, his thumb gently pulling her bottom lip away from her teeth. As his hand rested on the side of her face, he felt it grow warm.

"Do you… _want_ me to stay here?" she asked. He nodded. "What about that other man?"

"My brother. He won't hurt you."

"Oh. I didn't know he was your brother," she commented. "He scares me," she admitted. "Even before the whole…" She gestured to the room. "Bringing me down here."

"I won't let him touch you," he promised and smiled as a small smile came to her face.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Vincent," he answered.

"Vincent." Her smile grew. "Can I… Can I hug you, Vincent?" she asked. He tensed and swallowed before nodding slowly. She slid off the table and wrapped her arms around him. Involuntarily, he felt his entire body tense but slowly relaxed as his arms mimicked hers around her waist. A moment later she pulled away just enough to look at him. "Thank you, Vincent." He was grateful for the mask covering the embarrassment otherwise clear on his face. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek.

"Pretty face," he muttered and felt his heart swell as she smiled at him.


End file.
